


A Strange And Wicked Beauty

by shootingdaggers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Is Bi In This One, F/M, M/M, Minor Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hannah Abbott, Rivals to Lovers, Spies, hannah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shootingdaggers/pseuds/shootingdaggers
Summary: Desperate to prove the Zabini's involvement in the wizarding war, Hannah Abbott's on a mission of seduction and sabotage--but when Draco Malfoy lands on the scene, things don't exactly go to plan.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbott/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Implied Hermione Granger/Victor Krum
Comments: 44
Kudos: 34
Collections: Sing Me a Rare: The Mash-Ups





	A Strange And Wicked Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing Me a Rare: Mash-Ups. 
> 
> Song Prompt – WICKED GAME by Chris Isaac mixed with STRANGE AND BEAUTIFUL by Aqualung
> 
> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.

~*~*~*~

Strange what desire

Makes foolish people do

~*~*~*~

Hannah Abbott folded her arms and stared at Harry Potter’s head as it bobbed in the fire.

“You’re doing really well, Hannah,” it said. Hannah supposed he wanted to sound encouraging, but it was slightly difficult to believe him, especially when she imagined the awkward way he must have been talking to her: arse up for the world to see, on all fours like a cat in heat. Ginny must have seen it often. 

“I appreciate it, but there are still kinks in the road.” Hannah eased back on her kitchen chair. She’d cleaned the counters before the meeting, only to realise she was only in her knickers. Thankfully Harry had been spared the full moon of her arse, and called just after she’d dragged on her pyjamas. “The Zabinis watch the meetings like hawks. I’ve never seen so many overprotective people about imports and exports.”

“You keep your cover?”

Harry’s code for _do you keep your cool and not dissolve into a mess?_ Hannah squashed the offended string of curses she wanted to bite at him. “Of course. Blaise has been cordial enough so far. Thinks I’m interested in connecting with overseas liquor so I can add something instead of butterbeer to the drinks menu.”

In fact, Blaise had practically welcomed her with open arms compared to the rest of his family. She wouldn’t be surprised if they started hissing at her next time, but she could at least use the Leaky Cauldron as an excuse to keep asking questions about their methods of shipping American honeywine overseas. All a cover. All a ruse.

“You—er—” Harry coughed, breaking Hannah’s thoughts. Smog flew out from the fireplace. “You spoken to Neville recently?”

A sharpness stung her chest and Hannah frowned at the mention of him. “Keep to the mission, Harry. Emotions aren’t your strong suit.”

Harry nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, I’m sure you’ll continue doing fine. But we might need to rush the timelines so try and ingratiate yourself a bit quicker with them.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve never met his mother.”

“Times like this call for bravery.”

Bravery. _Bravery._ Did the condescending arse seriously imply she didn’t have it in abundance? Her mother would have been proud of her, facing school under the rule of the Dark Lord, fighting in the battle, learning how to defend herself, defend her friends. She’d kept her mother’s spark alive ever since that Death Eater stole it. _Bravery._

“Let me get one thing clear,” Hannah said, and leaned closer to the fire, arms over her legs, frown in place. To his credit, Harry blinked in nervous surprise. “I will do this as long as it takes to string up every single Death Eater—Every. Single. One. No matter if it takes me years. Times like this? Times like walking into the Zabini household on my own? That calls for dedication, Harry. Not bravery. And I’d thank you for not insulting me again.”

Hannah extinguished the floo with a waft of her hand.

She was still in a bad mood as she picked out the dress for the next trade meeting. Harry’s words soured her smile as she practiced her best allure in the mirror. It even bothered her as she walked up the front steps of the Zabini household three days later, gold dress hugging her hips like it was afraid of falling. If Harry Beloved Potter could see her now, he’d never question her bravery. Every step drew her further into the viper’s nest, not stopping until she reached the middle of the exquisite ballroom set up for mingling.

Each person in the room had a history: some of them were the only Slytherin elite left. Only a few of _those_ made any attempt to hide sneers at the muggle-borns and mixed houses doing the rounds. The only consolation for the constant threat of ridicule was that those who outwardly displayed their distaste didn’t fare so well in trade. The Slytherins who, by their own admission, had ‘evolved’ and more than that—actually proved it—did far better.

Hannah scouted the room for the tall, dark and handsome man she was supposed to charm. Blaise was nigh-on impossible to miss, and she was about to make a beeline to the tall man when—

Oh.

Oh no.

Draco Malfoy’s eyes set on hers, still twinkling with the mischief of his conversation until he registered who she was. The light went out of them so quickly he cleared his throat and diverted his gaze back to the man next to him. If Malfoy was anything, he was good at sniffing out liars. He’d been one himself. He’d practically _smell_ Potter’s involvement on her. Hannah ignored the drop of lead in her stomach and continued her purposeful stride.

She was unaffected. In control. It had to work. There was no other way.

“Gentlemen.” She smiled her best ‘I deserve to be here, fuckers’ grin. Malfoy stiffened beside her, while Blaise’s dark gaze roamed over her figure. This would be considerably difficult to accomplish with Draco there—but with Blaise’s eyes on her, Hannah ensured her hips swayed just a touch as she settled beside them.

“Abbott, what a delightful surprise,” said Blaise. “I didn’t believe you’d return so soon.”

“I’ll admit I came mostly for the buffet.”

Malfoy’s lip curled. “With the canapes his mother makes?”

Hannah arched a brow, ignoring Malfoy completely in favour of setting Blaise with her best smoulder. “Let’s call it a tastier version of Russian Roulette.”

The glimmer in Blaise’s eyes grew as a chuckle escaped him. While she acknowledged nothing, everyone knew Ms Zabini was more than the rumoured Black Widow—her games with previous husbands were only foreplay to her deeper adventures. Drops of rat poison instead of wax running down a birthday cake’s candle, an earnest mistake between anthrax icing sugar, and oh—the almonds tasted of cyanide, not the other way around.

One never knew if a sip of wine would be their last in Ms Zabini’s household.

Malfoy coughed, ruining the moment. Hannah cut a glare at him. “You seem tense. Want the first bite?”

Before Malfoy could open his mouth, Blaise slipped his arm around her middle. “All in good time, Miss Abbott. For now, let’s discuss business.”

As Blaise led her away, Abbott couldn’t resist a genuine smile as the pierce of Draco’s eyes burned into her naked back.

~*~*~*~

What a Wicked Game To Play

To Make Me Feel This Way

~*~*~*~

How dare she distract Blaise.

How dare her hips swish in that fashion, how dare her green eyes gleam with allure? Draco twirled the wand in his fingers for the hundredth time, hoping he could wash the image from his mind. Summer heat clung to the evening in the Malfoy Manor but he stayed by the open fire, glaring at its depths, pacing. He’d been in this mood since the meeting, listening to their airy laughter over dinner and talks and _ugh_.

It was _supposed_ to be easy snaring Blaise Zabini for his own ends. And now—

“He’s right there.” Malfoy held out his palm, imagining Blaise on the edge of it. “Right there. And she’s in danger of…”

He clenched his hand into a fist, crushing the image of the blonde with it. Draco hung his head with a sigh, bracing himself against the desk. Goyle made a confused noise, although it could have been his usual, one could never tell.

“Wait,” Goyle said, “you go for men too?”

“I go for anyone who’ll give me what I want.”

“I thought you were—”

“Thought? I’m astounded you’re capable of it, Goyle.” Draco drained the last of his wine and cast the goblet to one side. His mother always told him he looked like his father when he acted out: exuberant and fluid, never doing anything by halves. A flair for the dramatic. He stood, hands on his hips, as he stared at nothing. Growing up beside the gloom of water made him appreciate fires nowadays. He’d never got over how _damp_ everything had been in the dungeons. One would have thought with all the money in Slytherin house, someone would have ensured it was damp-proof.

“What game is she playing?” he mused. Perhaps wisely, Goyle stayed silent. Draco honestly didn’t know why he’d kept him around since Hogwarts: perhaps the familiarity. Perhaps pity, since Goyle didn’t have any family left. Perhaps because this Manor was an abyss, and it didn’t suit Draco to suffer loneliness. He wafted a hand. “She’s up to something.”

“Why are you so bothered?” Goyle had fished a chocolate bar from somewhere and spoke around a mouthful. “He likes her better than you, what of it?”

On second thoughts, loneliness might be preferable. “Bothered? I’m not bothered. And she’s not _better._ She might have legs that go on for days and curves that—well curves, and she might smell nice, but she doesn’t have—”

Goyle waited, blinking at him. “What?”

Flustered, Draco growled. “My magnetism.”

Goyle snorted. “I think you’re bothered.”

“Yeah well you can take your thoughts and bother off.” Not his best, but frustration coursed through him with every step. Hannah bloody Abbott. A landlady for Merlin’s sake. Better at a seduction game than _him?_ He’d learned from his mother that the best plays were the long ones. He’d learned from his father that an uncontrolled temper landed you in more hot water than cold. From both, ego was a failing. But he had almost zero time, Abbott had riled him up, and he knew he should be winning this easier than a rigged game of wizard’s chess.

*~*~*

It still rankled him as much the next dinner time.

Hannah Abbott managed to ensare every single person in the room: she turned every single head in her daring gowns, and still she never saw _him._ Draco Malfoy, watching from the sidelines. He’d have thought, perhaps in another lifetime, she’d be perfect on his arm. Now, as he settled at the long Zabini dinner table trying to sound interested in the Ministry, he thought he was better off not thinking about her at all.

The scent of cedarwood and lotus drifted across him. Draco took a good lungful of it, letting it seep comfortably into his ribs when the chair scraped next to him. He whipped his head. Hannah Abbott didn’t look too happy at her placement but sat with a graceful sigh.

“Before you start, this was the last seat.”

“Before you start, perfume is best dabbed, not marinated.”

She shot him a scathing look which only thinly veiled the sting. Draco forced his gaze away so she might not see the guilt. He engaged with some bore to his left if only to distract himself but every time she moved that damned scent washed over him. She also wore a plunge-line and angled herself so distractedly at his side he couldn’t help but catch a glance of her cleavage.

He knew it was a ruse for Blaise, not for him. But it didn’t stop Draco’s mind wandering to the possibility of a post-dinner liaison, tucked away in the dark like the manor’s secrets, his fingers in Hannah’s hair, her gasps of—

Christ, this dinner _must_ have been boring.

He reached for the potatoes at the same time as she did. Their hands touched, briefly, a spark passing as the sides of their little fingers bumped. Draco recoiled as though she’d burnt him and shrank into himself. He could live without potatoes. In fact he could live without her being there at all if he could just—

“I’m not dirty, Malfoy.”

“Pardon?”

Hannah spoke softly, and while she didn’t meet his gaze he couldn’t mistake the shine to her eyes. “You don’t have to recoil. The muggle part of me’s not contagious.”

Draco’s stomach twisted. “I wasn’t—”

But a glass chimed. A speech started. Hannah regained her poise, managing to look more interested than Draco felt. Any attempt at soothing her was lost as some merchant or other made a pitch about ferrying bird seeds into the country. Draco found his gaze lingering on Hannah’s delicate hand.

He dragged his gaze away as he realised, joining in a smattering applause, that given another chance, he wouldn’t flinch from her.

~*~*~*~

What A Wicked Thing To Do

To Let Me Dream Of You

~*~*~*~

Hermione Granger had never been able to tame her hair. As Hannah welcomed her in, she maveled at the curls: it had lost some of its bushiness, perhaps Viktor got her some creams or something, but it still looked more wild than the woman who owned it.

“So,” said Hannah as they flumped into the armchairs, “Harry sent the reasonable one this time?”

Hermione frowned. “While I’m flattered to be called reasonable, I’m not sure I understand what you mean by ‘sent’…”

After pouring them both a significant amount of wine, Hannah recounted the tale of Harry’s visit in the fireplace. Hermione listened open-mouthed.

“ _Times like this call for bravery?_ He honestly said that?”

Hannah nodded. Hermione guffawed.

“Pillock. You’re one of the courageous people I know. It can’t be easy going into the viper’s nest, and I understand if you’re having second thoughts. But we’re close. Closer than we’ve ever been, actually, and that is mostly down to you, in the field, doing what you’re doing.”

“It’s more dangerous than we thought, Hermione.” For more reasons than she could explain. Hannah shifted uncomfortably. “Malfoy’s there, too.”

“ _Malfoy?_ ” Hermione’s brows disappeared beyond her fringe. “What in seven hells is he hanging around Blaise for? I thought Blaise hated him.”

Hannah made a noncommittal noise and took a good slurp of fermented grapes. “Hell has frozen over and they’ve established a friendship.”

“Hmm. Well he’s definitely a slippery snake in proceedings. If we’re to get this to work, we need both of them on side. The Zabinis will do anything to distract from their secrets. We need proof as to how deeply they were involved in the Wizarding War. Solid, absolute, undeniable proof.”

Hannah let out a low growl. “I know that. Harry took great relish in reminding me. You don’t have to go all the way through the list of how brave, and noble, and necessary, and how very Gryffindor it all is.”

Hermione quirked a smile as a tiny laugh escaped her. “It is, isn’t it? I’d never thought of it that way.”

Typical bloody lions. Everything had shifted since Draco came into the picture with his keen eyes and wry smirks and _draping._ Hannah wafted a hand into the air. “Can’t you just apparate into Zabini’s vault and find some documents or other?”

“He has a vault?” Hannah groaned as Hermione’s eyes lit up. She most definitely was not getting the point. “See, this is information we never knew about. We would have _never_ known if it wasn’t for you. I’m very sorry to have to ask you to do this, but try and get closer to Blaise. Even better, get into his vault. Unless there’s any other reason you feel you can’t—I know you must be going through it, breaking up with Neville for this—”

“It has nothing to do with Neville.” As much as she hated to admit, Neville’s eyes weren’t the ones running through Hannah’s head at night. She didn’t imagine Neville’s hands roaming over her body when she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t envision Neville dragging her to a darkened corner of an old mansion, pinning her against the wall as a thunderstorm raged outside, hot breaths tingling—

“…Hannah?”

“I’ll keep trying,” Hannah said, ignoring the flush creeping up her neck.

Hermione studied her for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “This isn’t about the mission, is it?”

Hannah opened her mouth when

“Sorry to interrupt, but Krum’s drinking someone under the table again…”

With an exasperated sigh that didn’t quite erase the fondness in her eyes, Hermione shook her head. “Excuse me while I deal with my very _drunk_ child.”

Hermione brushed down her skirt as she left the back room. Even with the door closed, Hannah could make out the first words of a brisk scolding and others chanting. She leaned back into the armchair, nursing her glass. No, it wasn’t about the mission. It wasn’t about getting close to a tall, dark, and handsome Slytherin with all his fingers in murderous pies. Her mother had faced Death Eaters for Merlin’s sake. Hannah still battled nightmares about that bloodbath at Hogwarts, but she’d survived it. She’d survived the worst grief she’d ever known, and she’d stood against far worse than Blaise Zabini.

It was Malfoy she wasn’t sure she’d survive.

~*~*~*~

Hannah was sure, in a world filled with dinner parties and pretty people and vapid conversation, nobody had ever suspected a woman was dipping off to crack open a vault when she excused herself to the ladies’ room.

For one, Hannah didn’t look the type—she was attractive, sure, but bordered on mousy, and she didn’t have ‘vagrant’ written all over her like others did. Secondly, she was a Hufflepuff, and _nobody_ suspected Hufflepuffs of bending the truth as much as Gryffindors did Slytherins—vice versa, too.

But it appeared the vault wasn’t even a vault at all. It was a safe, hidden in the Zabini master office, concealed behind a slimline panel that looked _very_ much like the gold-and-green wall. Thanks to the spells Hermione provided, Hannah made short work of finding and opening the tiny entryway. The safe itself was—pathetic. They couldn’t possibly hide all their secrets in there it was too—

“What do we have here? A vole stuck in a safe?” A voice smooth as velvet purred behind her, the tip of a wand pressed at her back. Hannah whirled around before he could act, wand to his nose. Malfoy smirked. “Oh, no. Just a Hufflepuff in over her head, as usual.”

“I don’t take kindly to being followed,” Hannah said through gritted teeth.

“I knew you were up to something.” Malfoy dragged the tip of his wand down her neck, across to her chest. “One word and I could have the entire Zabini household on you in seconds.”

Hannah resisted a shudder. “What’s stopping you?”

Those three words seemed to deflate him. Draco’s expression softened before going blank, and he stashed his wand back in his pocket. “Leave it, Abbott.”

That wasn’t like a Malfoy at all. Confused, Hannah lowered her wand. “What’s your wicked little game?”

“Says she in the private offices of the Zabinis trying to crack open their safe.” When she didn’t respond, he hitched a shoulder. “You and I both know the Zabinis are neck-deep in shit. I want leverage.”

“For?”

An incredibly sly smile crept over Draco’s lips. “I don’t think we’re that friendly at the moment. What’s _your_ wicked game, Abbott?”

Hannah clicked her jaw as she thought on her response. “Proof.”

“Of?”

“The shit they’re neck deep in.”

Draco’s smile turned positively feral. “So can you open the safe or not?” Something pinged and Draco glanced behind them. It was quite possible that someone would follow _him_ , being a pureblood prince of the party and all. He was distinctly jumpy, or was that the ferret in him? Before she could make the joke Draco pushed her aside. “Here.” Draco twirled the wand in front of him. If it was that easy Hannah would smack herself for worrying, but it seemed he was making short work of the locks—until he wasn’t. The lock shuddered, groaned, and spat shards of metal into the room.

Hannah dodged quickly but Draco wasn’t as fortunate—he hissed as hot metal shavings lodged into his hand and he shook it furiously.

“Fuck, fuck it, fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

If he didn’t stop whinging he’d get them found. With a curse, Hannah stepped to him. “Let me see.”

Draco shrank away, eyes red and nose sniffling. He stuck his lip out like a child. “No.”

“Give it.” Without listening to his protests, Hannah snatched his hand. His pale skin was fiercely red around the wounds, the tiny scraps of metal already burrowed beneath. She frowned, tuning out his whimpering, and raised her wand. She’d only done a few classes of healing so far, but Draco was perfect practice as any.

His breath hitched as she soundlessly shifted the first scrap of metal up and out of his skin. The cuts sealed almost instantaneously. Blood still oozed, and Hannah concentrated on getting the others, fully aware Draco’s eyes trained on her.

“I never knew you were good at healing.” His voice turned low, and Hannah tried to make her touch as light as possible.

“I never knew you were an aspiring safecracker, but we all have talents.” She glanced at the still-smouldering safe. “Well, some of us do.”

“That was a one-off misstep. You distracted me.”

“Excuses, excuses.” The third piece of metal lifted from his palm. Hannah frowned as she considered asking him something that might get her shot at. They would only be here once. She’d only get this chance once. “Why do you want Blaise so badly? What’s your play?”

He stiffened. “None of your business.”

“Draco—”

“I said it’s none of your business.”

“Did you ever stop for a second and consider we might be able to help each other?”

“I don’t believe I want anything you can give me.”

Hannah winced at the sting of his words. To his credit, the coldness faded from his eyes as instantly as it hardened them.

“Actually,” he whispered, “that’s not true. I—”

Movement sounded down the hallway. Draco met her worried gaze with one of his own, cogs working behind them.

“Kiss me,” she hissed.

He blanched. “What—”

Hannah tugged him by his lapels to crash his mouth on hers. A little squeak escaped him but soon his arms were wrapped around her, exploring her curves, the scent of him overwhelming. She let out a breath that he met with his tongue, heat between them roaring to a fever. She barely heard the gasp over the blood in her ears, thudding a rapid beat as Draco pressed flush against her.

She’d lost her goddamn mind—

“Excuse me,” a voice snapped.

Draco pulled away from her with a lazy grin, faking a second-glance toward the person in the doorway. A maid, whose white hair fixed on top of her head like a cloud, shot them both a glare. “This is private. You’re not meant to be in here.”

“Oh—sorry,” Draco chuckled. While he distracted the maid, Hannah wafted her hand. The smoke from the safe dispersed, and with a swift flick of her little finger, she shut the panel back into place. “Do excuse us. Carried away in the moment, of course.”

To Hannah’s annoyance, the moment the maid caught sight of Draco her expression warmed. “Of course, Master Malfoy. But please return to the ballroom at once.”

“Naturally. Come on, darling, mustn’t keep the party waiting.”

Hannah allowed him to lead her from the room, flushed cheeks humming with heat as she passed the watchful maid. Her lips buzzed, her body tingled. Draco had a tight grip on her hand as he led her silently up the staircase and toward the party. If the maid hadn’t been so determined to interrupt she might have finally found out why all the girls loved Malfoy in Hogwarts.

Her mind rushed around in circles until Draco dropped her hand like it was a hot coal. With a brief glance at her he disappeared into the throngs, leaving her wandering aimlessly at the sidelines like a new kid at school. Hannah couldn’t quite figure out what had happened. Draco had discovered her intentions—get whatever was in the safe. She’d discovered his—get leverage for _some_ reason. And it seemed he trusted her enough to actively break into it in front of her, yet…

“I wondered where you’d gone, little badger.”

Blaise’s looming presence appeared by her side. He smiled at her, reminiscent of his mother eyeing up a prospective husband at the dinner table. Usually, Hannah would flick her hair. Flirt. Show a bit of leg. Right then, her heart beat to the rhythm of another man’s name.

“It’s always nice for a girl to know she’s missed,” she said, breathlessly. She had to get it together.

Blaise met her forced grin with an easy one of his own. “Missed indeed. Might have thought you’d got lost.” He lingered too close. His scent wasn’t like Draco’s, musky and light like jasmine—his was regal, overpowering. Like him. “But I fear you found the entertainment a little dull…”

“I admit I’m not one for a quartet.” Hannah put on a practiced flutter but it felt wrong, all wrong. Neville and Draco and _Merlin_ this mission… she shifted as Blaise peered down at her, using his full height to his advantage.

“Perhaps a private tete-a-tete would suit you better,” he purred.

“I…” _I can’t do it._ Hannah could do a lot of things—lie, cheat, dive in where she needed. Fuck she could apparently even kiss Draco. But she couldn’t sleep with someone she didn’t care for. She couldn’t use her body that way. He’d expose her lie if she didn’t go with him. Blaise would know everything she’d said was fake, the Zabinis would descend, and what they’d do if they found the rest of them…

Even as Hannah chuckled her nerves away, a cold gripped her stomach in a tight vice. “Well, I—”

“Blaise.” A soft, teasing voice whispered behind her, and Draco sauntered towards the towering former Slytherin with a lopsided grin and slid his arm around the man’s elbow. “I told you I’d introduce you to Madam Thackery, didn’t I? She’s very eager to meet you.”

Despite relief making her bones tingle, Hannah shot him a glare. “I was about to—”

“Bore him to death? I gathered that. Let me save you, Blaise. I promise Madam Thackery is _much_ more entertaining.”

The second Blaise turned his back, Draco shot Hannah a look she couldn’t quite read—a cross between a frown and a shiny-eyed plead—but before she could question it, he’d moved into the crowd. She knew better than to hang around when her chest was fluttery for all the wrong reasons. Excusing herself, Hannah pelted down the manor’s steps, glad to be out. A sweat bloomed on her skin as the night air cooled around her, but she still couldn’t understand the twist in her stomach at the sight of Draco’s arm snugly around Blaise’s shoulders.

~*~*~*~*

The Zabini mansion was huge. Echo-y, too. After an hour of what guests in the other wings could have been described as a very energetic haunting, Draco collapsed onto his back, sweat sheening his torso. Blaise lay beside him, grinning at the ceiling.

“How do you know just what I need, when I need it, Malfoy?”

With a dark chuckle, Draco ran a hand through his damp hair. “Intuition.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie: he’d sensed something was wrong the moment he saw Hannah’s shoulders tense, the way she froze like a deer in the headlights the moment Blaise made a very _obvious_ move. She’d needed saving, even if she was loathe to admit it: he recognised the silent screams her body sent out as Blaise advanced, so Draco had taken the hit—several, actually, since Blaise liked it rough—and he wondered now if she’d known to view it as a favour.

“This whole thing’s a fucking mess.” Blaise stretched and stood with a groan. He wafted cold air as he moved, a warm monolith removed from Draco’s side. “Too many people come to these dinners we haven't vetted. That Abbott, for example. She’s a meddler,” Blaise said. His back muscles flexed, and Draco allowed himself a good, long stare as the man walked naked to the dresser. “We need to deal with it.”

Draco blinked back to focus. “Deal with it?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Malfoy.” Blaise accompanied it with a deliberate look at Draco's groin, the naughty grin that used to keep Draco awake at night playing about Blaise’s soft lips. “She’s here for something. I can smell it on her.”

Feign ignorance. Feign it like—Potter. It burned to think of the man’s name, but he was good at playing dumb when needed. True to form, Draco shrugged, blue eyes foggy in a post-coitus haze despite secretly falling apart inside.

“I haven’t smelled anything on her other than butterbeer.”

Blaise poured himself a generous helping of whiskey and watched Draco’s reflection from the mirror. Draco schooled his expression to that of slight curiosity, but mostly a desire for round two.

It was a giant feat, considering his mind suddenly reeled into overdrive. Blaise suspected Hannah. Hannah was in danger. He had to warn her, tell her to find safety. How could he get out of this room quickly? How could he make an excuse to leave? He should have arranged for Goyle send an owl, should have—

“You have connections, Draco.”

“Many of them.”

“What have you heard of a secret group attempting to bring Death Eaters to justice?”

Draco’s laugh rang out into the bedroom. “You’ll ask if I believe in nargles next.” When Blaise turned, eyes cutting through him, Draco stilled. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly.” Blaise strode purposefully back to the bed, the dim candlelight casting a glow across his muscles. “If rumours about the group are true, some of my family are to be investigated. It’s imperative they do _not_ get access to my family’s vault. Knowing how the system works, they’ll be falsely accused. Tried. Imprisoned.”

“If your family didn’t do anything, there’s nothing to worry about. There won’t be any proof to convict.”

“It won’t matter to _them_.” Blaise sank onto the bed, a hint of whiskey on his breath. Draco’s mind ran over everything Blaise said, committing his words to memory as much as the feel of his hands skating over Draco’s shoulders.

Draco shuddered a breath to let out the nervous tension in his chest. “And what’s a landlady got to do with anything?”

“She’s in on it. I know she is.” Blaise trailed kisses, one by one, as Draco's face heated. “We must find out what they know, Malfoy, love.”

“You should maybe confirm they exist, first—”

“Good idea.” Blaise growled. “We’ll use Little Miss Abbott as a message to find out.”

Draco was glad Blaise kissed his throat, for he could pass off the groan as pleasure instead of despair. As Blaise pressed him into the bed, Draco responded with as much passion as he’d done before, but his mind wandered elsewhere—it reached out, desperate, clinging on to the only thing that mattered.

_Warn Hannah._

~*~*~*~

World Was On Fire

No-One Could Save Me But You

~*~*~*~

Thunder roared. Hannah paced by the open fire, lit so nobody could descend on her moping. She hadn’t done what she’d wanted. What she’d needed. She’d promised Hermione. Harry. And now what? She’d vastly overestimated her ability for things like this. She’d failed her mother’s memory.

With a cry, Hannah threw the contents of her fourth glass of wine into the fire. Such a simple thing. Open a fucking safe. Get the contents. Prove Zabinis’ guilt. She couldn’t even get that right!

A scuff made her jump. She whipped around. Drenched from the torrential rain, Draco Malfoy hovered by the open window. Hannah gripped her wand, pointing it at his heart.

“Get out.”

Draco raised his palms in peace. “Give me two minutes.”

“What do you want.”

“You have to leave.” Draco glanced between her eyes and the wand. “Can you put that down?”

“I can, but I won’t.”

“Hannah—” When he stepped forward Hannah emitted sparks at him. He raised his hands again. “I’m not here to harm you, for fuck’s sake, I’m here to _warn_ you!”

“Warn me about what?”

“Blaise knows.”

Hannah’s arms went cold. Her wand drooped. Draco was by her side in an instant, arm around her shoulder. Hannah shuddered at the touch, mostly because he was wet and cold, but another because he was _right there_ , smelling of ozone and rain and the undeniable Malfoy Musk.

“How does he know? _What_ does he know?”

“He’s suspicious, which to him is all that matters.” Draco stalked around the kitchen as though he lived there, searching for something Hannah didn’t really care what. “He won’t come himself. He’s sent five to deal with you.”

“ _Five._ ” If it wasn’t a matter of life or death it would be flattering. “I need to tell Harry.”

“Potter?” Draco made a face. “I should have known he’d be involved.”

Ignoring him, Hannah scribbled a note onto a scrap piece of parchment, folded it, lit the floo and threw it inside. A moment later, the green flames disappeared. It didn’t matter if Harry was home or not, his fancy little bell would inform him a letter had just flown into his living room. They’d long since agreed, perhaps because of Harry’s loss, that Owls were only to be used in cases of non-emergency.

Draco paced behind her: he was making an already tense situation worse. He kept peeking out of the window at the rain, as though lightning would show enemies in the mist.

“Stop it,” Hannah snapped eventually. “You’re not helping.”

“You’re not _moving_.” Draco’s tone dripped with scorn. “When they come for you, they’ll do it fast—roof, chimney, any way they can.”

Hannah straightened her back. “I’ll be ready for them.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Draco turned on her, blue eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a time to act tough, this is a time to survive. There’s a big difference. They’re not coming to kidnap you, or exchange you for information, or to threaten your friends to stop. They’re going to _make a statement with you._ Do you understand? There is no standing up to Blaise Zabini.”

A lump formed in Hannah’s throat, but she gulped it back. “My life is here. My friends are _here_. The only family I have, since Zabini and all the other fucking Death Eaters ran amok killing anyone they wanted. I’m not running away.”

“Be _smart_ , Hannah!” Draco cried, as thunder rolled overhead. He looked wild now, blonde hair drying into frayed tendrils. His eyes were wide, pleading. “I know you want justice for what they did. I won’t stand in your way. But I _will_ stop you from endangering your life in order to prove a fucking point.”

“Why does this even matter to you?”

“ _You_ matter to me.”

The words were sharp, little blades cutting at Hannah’s chest. Their eyes met: whatever game she’d believed Draco had been playing, no evidence showed of it now. The cool visage of the chess master was gone. This was no game. It wasn’t a ruse.

He’d meant every word.

“I didn’t want this,” Hannah whispered. “I didn’t want any of it.”

“Yeah well,” Draco mumbled. “Sometimes the last thing you want comes in first and the first thing you want never comes.”

He was close enough she could reach for him. Tangle her fingers in his damp hair. Bring him closer. He watched her carefully as she searched his face.

“Do you have anywhere safe to stay?” Draco asked. “Preferably with lots of guards.”

Hannah thought back. “I sent a message to Harry. I suppose his house is as good as any, but I—”

“Then we have to go.” Draco snapped his gaze away and moved before Hannah could respond. He grabbed random items from the countertops into the first bag he saw, back determinedly towards her.

While he busied himself, Hannah grabbed her coat from the hook. She went to grab Neville’s, too, in case Draco needed it, but her hand hesitated over the tweed. Somehow she didn’t much like the thought of Neville’s scent all over Draco, bringing him to mind whenever Draco moved.

If she was running away with Draco bloody Malfoy, she didn’t need the guilt of a fake-break up potentially becoming _very_ real due to ill-advised feelings for the man currently raiding her kitchen.

Covered up and ready, Draco didn’t ask before taking her hand. Hannah’s stomach lurched twice: once at the contact, the second as Draco apparated them suddenly from her living space.

~*~*~*~

I’d never dreamed that I’d love somebody

Like You

~*~*~*~

They landed in something akin to a deluge. Draco was soaked in seconds. Hannah gasped as she took on a mouthful of rain. It would have been funny if they weren’t running for their lives. He tended to her, concern knitting his brow.

“Are you—?”

“If you ask me if I’m all right I will knee you in the groin.”

Draco smiled despite himself and instinctively reached for her hand. It made sense—landing in a wet field, full of mud. Absolutely not an excuse just to feel her palm in his, what little warmth they could pass between them. They trudged for what seemed like miles until a winding country road came visible in the darkness.

On the fifth time Hannah stumbled and swore, she growled, loudly. “You couldn’t have landed closer?”

“It’s better this way.”

For more reasons than he could explain. He twitched, glancing around. It was so difficult to see in torrential rain but it could be any second now. Hannah needed to be off the field. Away. Safe.

“What do you need leverage for?” Her question drew him out of his thoughts and he slipped as he thought on how to answer. She wanted to help him, probably as much as he was helping her right now. Hufflepuffs tended to be like that—ride or die for those they considered friends. It was why Slytherins tended not to rip into them as often. At least, it had been for Draco.

When he met her with silence, she tugged his hand. “Draco.”

Goyle never understood him. Others didn’t care to try. Draco knew if there was anyone he could tell it would be Hannah—almost as though she’d put a spell on him only for him to wake up one morning and realise he…

“The Zabinis want my family’s assets. Things my father hid away from the Ministry.” Even as Draco said it out loud a pit formed in his stomach. “They’ve threatened to indicate me as more—involved in the war than I was. If I don’t give them everything, I lose it anyway.”

“So you want what I want.”

“In a manner of speaking.” If Hannah wanted a normal life, then yes. If Hannah wanted to get lost in a tangle of bedsheets with him, then yes. But he supposed she meant the proof she’d clearly fought to gain and lost because Draco was shit with a safe. “If you get what you need—what are you going to do with it?”

They reached the road with a squelch. The rain levelled off to a gentler stream instead of a waterfall. Hannah shook her hair from her face. “Hand it to the Ministry. Prove the Zabinis financed the Death Eaters’ escape, that they were instrumental in their work, however indirectly they may have practiced Voldemort’s doctrine.”

“They’ll go to Azkaban for it.”

“Likely… what is this all about? We need to get to Harry’s before they find us.”

“It’s me.” Draco liked his lips to taste the sweetness of the rain. Hannah stopped walking beneath the weak light of a streetlamp, confusion etched on her face. Draco sighed. “Blaise is after me.”

Realisation dawned behind Hannah’s eyes. She gaped. “But you said—”

“I said they were after you because I needed to be—I needed to be sure you’d move, okay? The only way I knew you’d definitely flee with me is if you thought you were in danger instead.”

Hannah watched him carefully and he shrank under her gaze. Her breath came shorter. “Explain.”

Draco fished out his wand carefully and pointed it at his pocket. It grew in size, untouched by rain, until eventually it formed into a red, leather ledger. He gestured to it. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he said, watching as her eyes widened. “Proof.”

“You broke the safe,” she breathed.

Draco smiled despite himself. “Yep.”

“They’ll kill you if they catch you!”

He laughed. “I don’t matter.”

“You matter to _me_.” Her words hung in the air between them, only the patter of rain punctuating the silence. If only they’d been able to have a moment like this before. If only he’d been able to see what she _was_ before. What she’d become.

“The only thing you have to do is get this to Harry.” Draco handed over the ledger, careful not the let the rain spatter it. Hannah took it like it might explode, staring at the letters. “The sooner you do that, the sooner you can make the case, set the Ministry on them, and—” Draco’s smile tugged. “Maybe get to me before they have a chance to finish finding out who I’ve told.”

“Come with me.” Hannah’s voice turned ragged. “You don’t have to let them take you at all, this is—this is foolish.”

“If I come with you, you’re all in danger. Believe it or not, five Zabinis are more than a match for Potter and co. Besides, you seem like you’re doing good work. I’d rather not take the risk of exposing you all.”

“Draco.”

“Hannah.” He’d never said her name with such softness before. He may never do again. But if someone deserved justice, it was Hannah. If someone could get it at the same time as saving him, it was her, too. She might not have known it but he’d watched her world from afar, and now he was so close to being where she was—a mile down the road, matter of fact, where her friends slept soundly beneath a thunderstorm that must have enveloped the entire country—yet he couldn’t step over the threshold.

The thunder above rattled his heart. “ _Hannah_.”

She kissed him. The rain wasn’t sweet as her lips, as soft as her body against him. The ledger formed a barrier between them getting too close. Perhaps it wouldn’t always be there.

Perhaps.

“Take it.” Draco pulled away too soon to be satisfied, too soon to commit her to memory. Hannah’s eyes were large, on the verge of tears.

“When it’s done,” she said, a promise in her tone, “I will be the first thing you see.”

Warmth filled Draco’s stomach. Somehow, the prospect of facing Zabini’s goons didn’t feel so terrifying. Not when he mattered to a Hufflepuff. To her. While optimism oozed from Hannah’s pores, Draco didn’t have the heart to break it. The reality that even her valiant promises might not be fulfilled didn’t seem a good note to end on. He’d lied already this evening—what was a white one?

“I don’t doubt it,” he said instead. With a tap against the ledger, he stepped back. “Keep it warm for me.”

Hannah smiled though what sounded like a sob. “Are you still talking about the book?”

Oh, he hoped to Merlin she could save him. With a last, long look at her, Draco flashed a bright smile before he vanished into the night.

~*~*~*~

I’d never dreamed that I’d lose somebody

Like You

~*~*~*~


End file.
